Being In The Band
by Scarlet Rose
Summary: Willow realizes just what she's gotten herself into; set in Season Two


TITLE: Being In The Band  
AUTHOR: Scarlet Rose  
RATING: PG  
PAIRING: Willow/Oz  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Willow, nor Oz, no matter how much I desperately wish I did  
DISTRIBUTION: If you'd like it, all ya gotta do is ask!  
FEEDBACK: Is received with much appreciation and happiness.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a fun little drabble which came to me at about 1 a.m.  
  


Willow hummed along to the music Oz had been practicing for a week straight. 

Her hand absently swirled the stick inside her cherry drink and she fidgeted restlessly on the seat.

As much as she loved seeing Oz on stage, she couldn't wait til the band's set was over and she'd get to talk to him for a while.

Not that Buffy and Xander were bad company, she amended, looking at her table-mates.

It was just that Oz…well, he was…

Willow froze, her hand letting go of the swizzle stick, as it fell from her lifeless fingers into the glass again.

Oz…was dating her. She was dating Oz. She was Oz's girlfriend. Oz was her boyfriend…

"Willow? Hey Wills, you okay?"

Willow barely heard Xander's concerned question, but caught his worried expression, mirrored in Buffy's face as she swung her glance towards them.

She wanted to explain, but it was kinda difficult. Even she was having a hard time figuring it all out. But, basically…

"My boyfriend's in the band," she let out happily, and was met by two pairs of eyes rolling.

Affronted, she turned back to watch The Dingoes. She knew that Xander and Buffy wouldn't let her live that comment down, but it was the truth.

Her boyfriend…was in the band. Her boyfriend was a musician, ergo her boyfriend was cool. And therefore she was cool by proxy. Or was it cool by association?

And really, Xander and Buffy should be happy for her. For once, she had the relationship. The dating partner. The Significant Other.

And Oz was a great guy. He was sweet, he was funny, he didn't smoke, didn't have a criminal record as far as she knew and he was light-years ahead of the other guys she'd…well, been interested in.

Her dating life could be summed up into three experiences:

Xander. Who stole her barbie, then decided to put her into the ever hateful she's-just-my-good-friend category, never to be let into the well-maybe-she-could-be-my-girlfriend-if-I-wasn't-dumb-and-would-take-her-out-of-the-good-friend category. 

She had thought she'd made some progress with that, but no go. And since her name didn't begin with 'B' and end with 'uffy' she figured it wasn't ever going to happen. 

Heck, he was even dating Cordelia while pining after Buffy, and she'd never really thought of him as a multi-tasker. No, she'd resigned herself to the fact that Xander would never really see her as a girl he'd like to date.

The point was moot. The moot had been dragged out, stepped on, and thrown away. Very, very dead moot.

Then came Bronze guy. Who drank blood for an un-living, and dressed horribly. Or at least, that's what Buffy had said in her lecture to Willow following the Bronze-Guy-Disaster, on how to pick out a vampire in the crowd. 

Quite a bit after, truthfully, as Willow had to learn to hear about vampires without shaking so bad she'd have to sit down for a half hour.

Frankly, Willow had kind of liked his clothes. And Buffy should be careful with that stigma she had with pale skin- some people were just born with it, Willow thought with a slight huff.

And last in the dating diary, Moloch. Computer demon extraordinaire. She still felt so incredibly stupid over that particular disaster. Finally, she'd found someone who enjoyed talking with her, who shared her interests, and he was a computer demon. 

How fitting. As if she needed further proof from the universe that she was a dork.

Three strikes and you're out. And Willow had always figured that going through dating was like fine wine- it got better as it aged. Or as you aged. 

Or it would improve with age- that was it.

But it seemed as though she were going downhill rather than up it, as very previous by her slow downfall from Xander-love to bait-for-horny-computer-demon. 

She had figured she'd better tighten down, buy a chastity belt, and look into the nearest nunnery. 

And possibly never leave the house again. Ever.

But then Oz had come, and just…made her smile really dreamily, like she suspected she was doing now.

Oz treated her as though she were special, not just your regular, run of the mill Willow. 

He hadn't held her feeble actions toward him in the van outside the army place against her, for which she was extremely grateful.

He didn't make her feel as though all her geeky obsessions were, well, geeky. 

Sometimes, when they were in the park studying, he'd lie down on the grass for a break and pull her on top of him.

Nothing sexual at all, but just…snuggling. His arms around her waist, his chest rising with each breath beneath her back, his cool exhaled breaths blowing through her hair.

She could always feel herself relax to time her breaths to his, and sometimes she would even swear she could feel his heart beating- and it matched hers.

And sometimes, when he was up on stage, his eyes would find her in the crowd, and he'd smile.

A small, but genuine smile. 

Oz-smileage. 

And she'd be basked in the warmth of…well, in the warmth of the fluorescent lighting above her that always buzzed and threatened to go out, but also in the warmth of the knowledge that that smile was hers alone.

And…her eyes went wide as her thoughts and daydreams came to a halt, and the real world crashed in around her.

Well, actually it was some guy getting pushed down by another right behind her chair, but it was enough to wake her up, and make her realize that…

Oz wasn't on stage anymore. They'd finished! They'd finished, and she hadn't clapped! What kind of girlfriend was she?

Willow moaned, and turned to ask Buffy and Xander when the Dingoes had left. But both were currently engaged in a lively conversation, something about horror films and real life, and there went Buffy with the pale thing again…

And a hand lightly touched her shoulder, and though Willow hated clichés she'd swear she'd know that hand anywhere. Ooooh, hand of Oz. Oz-hand.

Willow blushed heavily and pushed *those* type of thoughts away. She turned to the side to find Oz standing beside her chair.

His smile was all for her, a slightly larger one than the ones he'd share from onstage, but it faded when he saw her crestfallen expression. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately, taking her hand.

She nearly swooned. He really was so sweet and considerate, and…

She shook her head, then looked at him with sadness. "I didn't clap," she said, lower lip trembling.

Oz's expression went slightly from worried to confused before he squeezed her hand. "Applause is overrated," he replied easily, but she shook her head emphatically.

"No, it's not! I really liked the set, and I'm your girlfriend, and I'm supposed to clap. And I missed the ending, and I missed your little smile at me, and I missed watching your hands," she cried, head dropping sullenly.

His fingers came up under her chin, hot yet demanding, and pulled her head up to face him.

"Willow, you're here. And you listen to crap like this every day when I practice. I don't need you to prove you care," he replied firmly, his other hand gently combing through her hair.

"It's not crap," she argued, but she had conceded the argument. It didn't mean she wouldn't be baking his favorite kind of cookie tonight, preferably in the dozens, but she wouldn't argue the point right now.

She smiled at him while blinking away the few renegade tears that still sparkled on her lashes. She was so new at this dating thing. She was so scared she'd screw something up.

She was still smiling at him when she felt a sharp tug on her opposite elbow. Clearly not from Oz as he was still holding the other hand. And that would probably also be why that arm didn't move. And hence why the one doing the tugging was continuing to…tug.

Willow turned and was met with an extremely amused Buffy. "I asked you guys twice now if you wanted to leave. We going? Or do I need to ask again?" she questioned, but gave Willow a wink.

Willow shrugged, then looked down at Oz's fingers encasing hers. "Well, you know, third time's the charm," she responded mysteriously.

Or, in this case, fourth. But she'd like to pretend that Moloch never happened. 

So, third time's the charm.

Or maybe Oz was just the charm.

She'd figure it out later.


End file.
